Sinners Like Me
by Jac Danvers
Summary: Jessie Tranell was about to take the medical world by storm, when the dead decided to storm the earth instead. Stumbling upon the Greene family farm as they escaped the herd, Jessie inadvertently saves a life, and becomes stranded with a man slowly losing his sanity. Shane Walsh had hoped it would end that night. Could helping Jessie reunite with her group bring him new purpose?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: ** Alas, The Walking Dead is not mine. New characters are my own creation. Quote at the beginning of the chapter is from Lorde's "Buzzcut Season" which I listened to approximately 62 times on repeat writing this chapter. The story title is based on the Eric Church song of the same name.

**Authors Note: **Why hello there. It's been a few... years? Yup, years since I've published any multi-chapter stories. But since my pre-season 5 marathon watch I've had this story rolling around in my head, and I figured I'd take my chances and get back into writing again now that grad school is over, I have a job with (semi) sane hours, and I have time in my life again!

I don't normally put author's notes at the beginning of a chapter, but I wanted to orient you guys a bit. This story picks up during the season finale of season 2 (yep... we're back to the farm). Everything after is considered AU. I got this idea based on both my rewatch and number of message board discussions wondering what would have happened if Shane fell in line, or if he had survived past the night on the farm. Was there any redemption left for Shane? So I figured I'd take my chances and run with that idea. This story is Shane/OC and possibly Daryl/OC later. The characters we know and love will start showing up come the first actual chapter. But for now, here's the prologue for you!

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

_And I'll never go home again_

_(Place the call, feel it start)_

_Favorite friend_

_I live in a hologram with you_

"Dead to the world I see?"

Jessica Tranell shot up with a start, the nap she'd chosen to take on her keyboard interrupted. The dim fluorescent lights flickered back on- she'd been out long enough that the motion-sensitive lights thought the room was empty. Glancing at her computer screen, she discovered a long string of semicolons added to the end of the text-box on her PowerPoint slide.

"Mother fucker," she muttered, blinking hard. She grabbed the coffee that had been piping hot five minutes ago and gulped down the ice cold liquid, face contorting at the taste. Looking at the clock in the corner of her computer, she drank some more. She needed the energy, and there was no time to grab a fresh cup, finish her rounds, print her poster, and catch her flight to Atlanta. Rubbing her eyes, she felt the imprint of the keyboard on her face.

"And they let you work with children." A smile passed over the doctor's face he stepped into the room. "Whatever will become of the youth of our nation?"

A steaming paper cup was plopped down in front of her, along with a chocolate chip scone. Jessie looked up at her mentor with a grin. "I will totally forgive you for that last comment if this is a dirty chai."

"So dirty an obsessive compulsive cleaner would cry." Dr. Morris Schwartz replied, settling in a rolling chair and propping his feet on the desk next to her laptop.

"And they let you work with children?"" Jessie shot back. Turnabout was _always_ fair play. She took a sip. "Oh this is to die for."

Morris laughed, removing his surgical cap to reveal graying red hair and a wrinkled forehead. "You work too hard, kiddo. How's the poster going?" He took a sip of his own coffee- black, one Splenda, and two shakes of cinnamon- and leaned over the computer. "Layout looks great. And the data looks fantastic, as always. You're missing the statistical analysis from the mouse studies though." He pointed at the red and black bar graph on the screen with a bandaged finger.

"Crap. Must have grabbed it from my first seminar. It's the preliminary data."

"Stop worrying, Jessie. The researchers at AACR are going to love you_ and_ loathe you. You and Cece are working miracles. Completely changing paradigms. There's going to be resistance, but the data is irrefutable. They're going to be climbing over each other to offer you a tenure track position."

For a moment, Jessie let a smile emerge. This was why she adored Morris. Her MD/PhD advisor back at the University of Iowa had been a tyrant, had nearly squelched her love of research. In her four years as a student, her boss had shot down every original idea she had, telling her it was completely unfeasible, and that if she ever wanted to be a successful tenure track professor, she was going to have to work a hell of a lot harder than the 70 hours she already put in a week. Seemingly every day was the same- she wasn't working hard enough, wasn't good enough- she'd nearly broken. As she'd headed out the door to her residency at the University of Virginia, she was done with research. She would hone her skills as a pediatric oncologist and never step foot into a lab again, unless it was to get blood test results from the technicians.

At least, that _was _the plan, until Morris, the head of the pediatric oncology department, had cornered her at lunch two days into her residency. He was a practicing doctor with a lab, and had seen her previous work. After an intense question answer session- him the questions, her the answers- he insisted she do a trial fellowship in his lab. No commitments, no limitations, no cost. He had funding from the National Cancer Institute to use before his grant ran out, and wanted to use it to develop the next generation of cancer therapeutics.

It had been six years now- three years beyond the end of her residency- and everything had finally come together. Everything she'd ever hoped to accomplish when she started out as a biochemistry major at 18, she had finally achieved, thanks to Morris's belief in her.

"I just wish we knew if the paper was accepted or not before we present," she replied with a sigh. She took another sip of the chai latte and popped a piece of scone in her mouth, savoring the sweet taste of chocolate. "I feel like there would be fewer questions if we could show this passed through peer review."

They'd aimed high with the paper, sending it to _Cell_. It was one of the most competitive, highest impact scientific journals in the world. She'd been thrilled just to make it past the initial review without an outright rejection. She and Cece, the graduate student Morris had allowed her to hire, had submitted the required revisions almost a month ago, with no response.

Morris smirked, leaning over to steal a piece of scone. "Well I wasn't going to say anything, but…"

"You heard? They e-mailed?"

She wasn't even going to try and hide her excitement or her nerves.

"Not quite," he said with a chuckle. Reaching for the shelf above her desk, he pulled down a thin periodical.

"Congratulations Dr. Tranell. You and Miss Jacondin are the cover story."

She stared at the cover of the next month's edition of Cell in awe. The photograph- a bioluminescence image of brain tumors in mice- was covered in bylines describing the most recent and novel research. The largest one, in bold face white font, read "Back to the Future: Retooling Conventional Chemotherapeutics to Cure Childhood Neuroblastoma."

Looking from Morris, to the journal, and back again, she felt her hands shaking. "That's our paper."

"That is_ your _paper." He took the journal and opened to a page he'd marked with a post-it note. "And _this_ is a full profile on you and Cecily." He pointed to a page long article on her and her grad student.

"You told me you took this picture for the department newsletter!" she said with a squeak, pointing to the photograph at the bottom of the page. She and Cece stood with a family of four outside the campus rotunda. Alexander Morgan, an adorable six year old who almost didn't see seven, sat on Morris's shoulders beaming. His mother stood arm-in-arm with Cece, while his father and older brother struck a pose. Jessie stood apart from the rest- nothing new. With pediatric oncology, she'd learned early on to keep a healthy distance.

The bad days didn't hurt quite so much that way.

"I lied." Morris grinned. "One of my old student's is an editor for Cell. Got an advanced copy for you."

"Thank you," she said. "This never would have happened if you hadn't cornered me by the cheap sushi my first week here." She grabbed his hand and gave it a meaningful squeeze.

He flinched away with an apologetic smile. "You're welcome. And watch the hand, kid!"

She pulled her hand away quickly, looking down at the bandage. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Eloise Morgan happened."

Jessie laughed. Eloise, who was named after her gram-gram, thank you very much, was a precocious five year old with Wilms tumors and a penchant for biting everything- animate and inanimate. "What happened?"

"We almost lost her today, actually," Morris said soberly, running the bandaged hand through his hair. "Not even the cancer. She came in with a fever and signs of sepsis. Looks like she got bit by a dog or something earlier this week and didn't tell her parents. Hell of an infection. They called me in since they were afraid the antibiotics might affect her chemo. She coded on the table, but they brought her back. And of course, what is the first thing she does? Takes a chunk out of my finger."

"Poor thing," Jessie replied. "Though seriously, she does love snapping at you Morris. Must be your personality."

"Ha. All the ladies love my charm. Particularly my wife, who will be throwing a party for you once you get back from Atlanta. Just let me know what day you get back from the conference, and we'll work from there. She's going to invite her nephew, so she can play yenta."

"Ooh lucky me. We'll pawn him off on Cece, right?" She turned back to her computer, flicking through files to find the updated graph that Morris pointed out earlier.

Morris shook his head. "She'll wear you down someday, Jessie."

"Say things like that and I may never come back from Atlanta."

With a chuckle, Morris patted her on the back. "Now I'm going to go finish my rounds and get out of your hair. Congratulations again kiddo. Give 'em hell."

"I will. I promise."

With the journal tucked soundly in her backpack, she knew she had the confidence to take Atlanta by storm.

They wouldn't even know what hit them.

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><p><strong>Thank you so much for taking a chance and reading. I hope you enjoyed the prologue, and appreciate any constructive criticism or encouragement you guys might have. Wishing you all the best this holiday season! - Jac Danvers<strong>


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Walking Dead still isn't mine. The OC's are my own creation. Lyrics come from Shovel and Ropes "Devil is All Around." **

**A/N: I've taken some creative liberties with the end of the episode "Better Angels." Jon Bernthal, I believe at one of the cons, had mentioned his theories on the Shane/Rick showdown, and I've combined the cannon events from the show with his own theories here.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

_When the devil is all around_

_And got you crawling on the ground_

_You will know how far you'll go_

_To make your peace with God_

"Help! Oh God, hel—" The cry for aid was cut off quickly and turned into a garbled wail, telling Jessie everything she needed to know. Her stomach clenched and her breath caught momentarily- she recognized the voice, had become friends with Genevieve, the retired teacher who had grabbed her corgi, Sir Wiggles, and her ex-husband's shotgun before she sped out of her suburban neighborhood at the dawn of the apocalypse.

_Don't think about it. Keep running. _

The dead had abandoned Atlanta.

That was the only way she could explain the size of the herd that was bearing down on them. It was huge- so large they hadn't found a way to outrun it or circle back behind it. Food… humans… must have been in such short supply that they had to leave the city. Like lemmings to the sea, they followed each other, chasing the sweet scent of fresh meat. And they found that sustenance in a camp just off the highway.

Three gunshots in the distance and another scream. A man. Was that Craig? Or Andy?

They should have moved out like Javon had suggested earlier in the day. But no, she insisted they could make one more run into town. They were low on medical supplies, and she was the only doctor in the group.

"We'll regret it this winter if we don't stock up now. Flu and cold medicine are going to be in short supply, we'll want to grab it before some other group does. Antibiotics and pain meds would make all the difference too. Trust me."

Famous. Last. Words.

_You can't help them, Jess. You can't. _

"Cece," she heard Logan hiss anxiously to her right. "You gotta keep up Ce."

Her grad student- former grad student, now- lagged slightly behind them. Panting. Gasping for breath. Logan was the only one really prepared for this world.

They'd been on the run for almost three months now. They'd tried keeping track of the days at first, when it had just been the three of them. Now dates and times were related by which group they had been with, and who was still alive.

Tonight they'd lost group number four- the only decent people they'd found since shit hit the fan in the convention hall of the Atlanta Marriot.

A tree rustled just behind Logan, and the smell of decay momentarily overwhelmed Jessie. "Behind you!" she gasped, preparing to swing the metal baseball bat she'd acquired at an abandoned REI off of the expressway. Logan was faster, drawing his pride and joy out of its holster. The half-assed scythe he'd built from an ice skate blade and shortened hockey stick that didn't look at all reliable. But with one swift swing, he took the top half of the middle aged freak's head, spattering brains and rotten flesh onto the bushes behind it.

"You alright?" Cece asked resting a hand on his shoulder as she caught up with them. Her backpack was slipping off her shoulders, weighed down with the last few cans of peas and artichoke hearts they'd found hidden under the shelves of an old Walgreens.

"Fine" Logan said, switching the scythe to his other hand and checking their perimeter. He may have never seen battle, but Jess was certain that the kid would have been a successful officer if he'd ever had the chance to make it out of ROTC. "We're clear. Two minutes. What's the plan, Doc?"

"We keep heading that way," Jess stated, eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. She didn't know why Logan and Cece named her de facto leader- probably age, since she had at least five years on Cece, and even more on Logan- but she'd pushed her hesitance aside and took control weeks ago. "The trees are thinning out, I think we may be nearing a field or a road. If it's a road, we might be able to find a car."

"And if it's a field?" Logan asked.

With a sigh, Jessie felt her head drop, exhaustion finally hitting her. She stared at the first dead leaves of fall littering the ground, just barely visible in the dark. There was no easy way to phrase their situation. "At least we'll be able to see the freaks coming."

Her friends were silent, and when she looked back up, she saw the resignation on both their faces. There was no way they could keep running all night- they'd been on the move since dawn, and been running from the herd for at least an hour or two. Physically, they were done. And here at the edge of the woods, the trees were young and not strong enough to climb and hide. If they'd stopped farther back, they could have pulled it off, but backtracking would only lead them into the mouths of the rampaging freaks.

If there was no car, they were fucked.

With a deep breathe, Logan held out his hand to Cece. "Gimme your bag. You'll move faster."

"Lo—"

"Don't argue it Ce. This isn't even close to the weight they made us run around campus with during PT." A hint of a smile passed over his face at the memory. Pulling the straps off her shoulder, she handed the bag to Logan. Grabbing her own bag, Jessie undid the zipper and handed Cece an extra baseball cap out.

"You lost yours while we were running. Get your hair up so the freaks can't pull you back." It came out more bossy than she intended, but at this point, if she could get these two kids- and they were really just kids- through the night, she'd rather be a bitch now and apologize later. As Cece piled her hair on top of her head, Jessie adjusted her Minnesota Wild cap, one of the few items she had left from her old life, over her own braid.

"Ready Doc?" Logan asked. She nodded. Cece twirled her crowbar between her fingers. Somewhere in the distance, a lonely voice screamed in agony. Jessie didn't know if it was their old group or just an unlucky stranger, and she didn't care to think about it. With once last glance at the remnants of her crew, she ran for the clearing without comment.

OOO

_The hell are you doing? _

_ What I should've done the minute he walked off that truck into the quarry._

_ Do you hear yourself right now? This is Rick. Your best friend. Your partner in crime. Your-_

_ Competition. He's too weak. He'll get my family killed. I was built for this world. Not Dale. Not Hershel. Not Otis. And sure as hell not Rick. Fuckin' bleedin' heart'll get every last one of us devoured. _

"You said he knocked you out?"

Rick's voice pulled Shane from his reverie. He ran a hand over his head, peach fuzz tickling his palm. It had been a nervous tick, ever since he was kid. His poker face had always been good, but he had his tell. God damn Otis, putting up a fight and yanking out a chunk.

"The fucker got the jump on me," Shane mumbled. "Near bashed my head in."

Rick stood still momentarily, staring at him with a thousand yard gaze. For a few seconds, Shane wondered if his rival had put the pieces together. Instead, he felt Rick's hand clasp his back. "We'll take care of 'im. Get your gun back too."

Shane laughed bitterly. "My favorite one." He thought of it tucked safely between the folded tarps that served as makeshift tents, stored in the back of his Hyundai. Didn't matter. He had the pistols he needed.

A chill had overtaken the night- fall was approaching fast- but the grass remained slick from the humidity of the day. The moisture was settling into a thick fog over the Georgia night. Shane stalked closer and closer to the last fence before the forest, not even pretending to be hunting for Randall. Why keep up the farce? It would all be over soon enough.

One pistol loaded. One pistol empty. Life hadn't been fair since the world ended, the dice loaded against them. Why start following the rules now?

_ BECAUSE HE'S YOUR BEST FRIEND! _

_ He stole Lori from me! Is tryin' to claim my baby. _

_ You abandoned him in the hospital! You shoulda hauled his ass out of there over your shoulder. _

_ And done what? Carried his corpse home. He was as good as dead. Walker bait. _

Shane shook his head, once again reaching for his hair. He was his losing his goddamned mind. Ever since she'd taken Rick back, taken Carl away, declared he'd never see his baby. They were _his_, God damnit, his family. That bitch had no right to take them away. Once Rick was dead and out of the way, Lori would come to her senses, would understand that he, and not Rick, was made for this world.

_Yeah, yeah. If you said it one time, you've said it again. Was it worth the price of your soul?_

_ Shut up._

_ It's not too late-_

_ Shut up!_

_ There's another way-_

"SHUT UP!"

His voice echoed over the field, into the forest. With an awareness of his surrounding he hadn't felt since he dragged Randall from the barn, he gazed across the horizon, trying to see through the pea soup fog. No walkers. How long had he been talking to himself? Slowly, he turned to Rick. The man's face seemed calm, though a bit bemused.

Not that long. He still didn't know.

"You sure you're alright?" Rick asked hesitantly.

"Yeah… yeah. I'm fine. Head is still woozy," he quickly excused himself. He couldn't show any weakness. Rick could not get the advantage.

Rick had to die.

Or did he?

The empty pistol weighed heavy. Rick was not leaving the forest alive tonight. There was no doubt of that. But what kind of man was he if he took out an unarmed man?

What kind of man killed another and left them for walker bait?

What kind of man had he become?

_The fuck you saying, boy? Get it together. Kill him and let it be done._

"Let's keep moving," Shane encouraged, picking up the pace.

_Yes. Kill Rick. It's your only option._

OOO

"To your left, Ce!" Logan shouted. She stopped short, nearly tripping over her own feet. The freak was stumbling towards her, chest sunken in, intestines spilling out. The woman had maybe been a few years older than her. Stomach churning, Cece swung her crowbar hard into the woman's head. She knew she didn't have much power- it was no secret that she was, by far, the most useless member of their group - and the swing only caused the freak to stumble a few steps backward. For a moment, she considered calling for help, but Logan and Jess were dealing with three others that had somehow caught their scent.

Taking a deep breath, she charged the freak, holding her crowbar ahead of her. Giving it a shove, it pierced the freak's skull. As the woman fell, Cece yanked her crowbar out.

The freaks were gaining on them.

"You alright Ce?" Jess asked, wiping the bloody baseball bat on the wet grass. She nodded briefly, and they kept running.

Everything hurt. She wasn't going to lie to herself and say that this nomadic life was a walk in the park. Cecily Kim had been firmly tied to her lab bench the past three years. And unlike Jess, who at least managed to sneak in a jog on the treadmill or a spot on a co-ed softball team every so often, working out had long taken a spot behind studying, researching, eating, and sleeping. She wanted to kick herself for all the times she'd joked about having good genes. Good genes kept you skinny, but they didn't mean you could run.

And yet she did. Because, frankly, becoming a meal was a terrifying thought. So she pulled down her baseball cap, laced up her sneakers, and ran like all hell, because although she might be useless, she didn't want to die.

The break in the forest came suddenly. Though they knew that the edge of the thick woods was near, it was jarring to step into an open field. The thick, pea soup-like fog sent an additional shiver up her spine, hiding what was awaiting them.

"Keep moving! I think I see something ahead." Logan signaled the direction he planned on moving, and the two women followed. Something was better than nothing at this point. They moved slower now, back-to-back, prepared to strike at anything that might emerge. Logan had trained them well the past few weeks, teaching them basic protective maneuvers. The three of them had been together so long, they worked well as a unit.

As they moved closer, it became more apparent what they were seeing. A fence, made of well-weathered pressure-treated lumber. And beyond the fence, a farmhouse.

The lights were on.

"Are you shitting me?" she whispered.

For a moment, they stood in awe. The last few months, light came from the sun. From flashlights, when the batteries had lasted. Candles, until they'd burned out. The campfire. But this farmhouse, somehow, someway, still had electricity.

"Do you think…" Cece started saying, with baited breathe.

"Could just be that they had a generator and the lights were on a timer," Jess said, ever the realist. For a moment her heart sank.

"But would a generator have lasted this long?" Logan offered. Jess shrugged her shoulders.

"Does it matter?" Cece interrupted. "A house means a driveway, and a driveway means a road. There's gotta be a car nearby!" The excitement grew in her voice. They weren't going to die. Not here. Not tonight.

"Let's move then!" Logan said, his voice filled with the same hope that Cece felt.

"Wait!" Jess gasped. "Look in the window. Second story, on the left. Is that a person?"

Cece squinted, trying her best to see. A shadow wandered through the room slowly. Her gut instinct told her it was a walker, trapped in the upper floors of the house. But the shadow leaned over briefly, and stood up with something in its arms. "They're alive!"

"We have to warn them. They don't know what's coming this way," Logan insisted.

For a moment, Cecily was going to agree. But her mind drifted back to the third group they'd travelled with. How they'd changed from their initial meeting in the first days of the apocalypse. The price they'd demanded.

The guilt she carried that Jess had taken the burden upon herself.

"What if they're like Macon?" Cece said hesitantly, eyes looking anywhere but Jess. Not far behind them, a pack of four freaks emerge from the woods. "The house could be a death trap."

"The whole fucking world is a death trap Cecily!" Logan snapped. Instantly, his face flushed. "Sorry… I'm sorry. It's not helping."

Jess held her hands up between them. "It's a risk, but we're dead if we don't find a car and find one fast. I'd rather deal with people who have actual car keys then pray we find a car with keys in it. If we're lucky, they'll be thankful we saved their asses and give us a ride out of dodge. If not… whatever they want, I'll handle it."

"Jess…" Cece whispered.

The group was silent for a moment, before Logan split off to take care of a stray freak. They peppered the edge of the woods now, and would soon overrun the entire farm. Once Logan rejoined them, they ran for the fence, which looked like it had recently been reinforced. It didn't matter now- it would never withstand the herd. With each step, the farm grew closer, and with it, the potential of a temporary escape from the dangers behind them.

Logan held up a hand, signaling them to stop. "Do you hear shouting?" he asked.

Cece hesitated a moment, listening closely. "Yeah… yeah I do. Do you see them? Is that a kid over there?"

Three figures stood shadowed on a hill near the fence, completely unaware of the approaching danger. Two were standing next to each other, arguing, drawing the attention of the freaks emerging from the woods. They were tall, likely grown men. The third stood farther away. A kid.

"Goddamn it." Jess hissed. "Go. Go to the house and warn them. If I'm not there in ten, you leave without me. Got it?"

"You can't—"

"Someone had to warn those idiots. I _will _find you guys. Alright? Go!"

And although she wanted to argue, she let Jess sprint away towards the men in the field.

OOO

_It's not the only way._

_ It is._

_ You gonna be able to live with yourself after you pull that trigger?_

_ Hell yes._

_ Are you so sure about that?_

Shane glanced behind them at the farmhouse. The lights glowed bright through the fog, a beacon in the darkness reminding him of what he had. Of who he had to protect. The only people that mattered in this shitty world.

_Are. You. Sure. _

His hand moved to the gun. It was time. They were far enough from the house that no one would see what really happened. He'd tell them it was a walker, a sneak attack. Lori would forget Rick. She'd forgotten him once, it wouldn't be hard. Kill Rick, drag his body into the woods. The walkers would eventually get to his corpse- there were enough still milling around that they'd cover his tracks. Carl would come around to calling him daddy eventually. He wouldn't force it on him, he deserved time to mourn…

_What am I doing?_

Rick stared at him as he stopped suddenly. "You see somethin'?"

He felt overwhelmed with the sudden clarity.

What kind of man had he become?

Was it only two months since the real world? Since he visited his best friend's hospital bed weekly, giving him updates on his wife and son? Since he defended the weak from the criminals of the world?

He'd turned into everything he once fought against.

_There's another way. Turn Rick into the man he needs to be. _

_What?_

_Give Rick the gun with the bullets._

He would die here tonight. He would force Rick to be the man he needed to be.

It wasn't fair to Rick, but what was fair in this world anymore? Rick needed the push and Shane was the only one who could give it. He would die so that Rick and Carl, Lori and his baby, could live. So that Rick could be the man they needed in this world.

He might love her, but Rick had always loved her more.

"So this is where you're gonna do it?" Rick drawled behind him.

He knew.

"As good a place as any," he replied with a shrug.

"At least call it what it is. Murder." It sounded like Rick's heart was breaking, and Shane knew it was. Betrayed by his best friend. The man who was supposed to have his back.

"Can't help it I'm a better man than you, Rick. You can't protect them. _I _can. I'm the better man Rick."

"And what are you gonna tell 'em. When you come back without me and without Randall."

He had to play it up. Let Rick think that the plan was to kill him, wound him so deeply he had no other option but to kill Shane. _You have to die. It's the only way they'll live. _

"They forgot about you once. They'll forget you again. Ain't gonna surprise no one if you get bit. It happens these days. Your boy's weak Rick. You're makin' him that way. Your woman's broken." Rage dripped from his voice, all the hurt and pain he'd felt since Rick returned and his world fell apart a second time. "I fucked your woman. And I ain't gonna let you raise my child, Rick."

"So you're gonna kill an unarmed man?"

He held out the loaded pistol. "Take it."

"I ain't doin' thi—"

"TAKE IT!" Shane shouted, shoving the gun into his hands. He stepped back. "Be a man and defend yourself Rick."

"I'm not doing this!" Rick growled. "There's still time, we can turn around and go back to the farm. No one needs to know about this.

"This. Ends. Tonight."

Rick sighed, dropping the gun to the ground. "Then you're gonna have to kill an unarmed man, Shane."

They stared at each other, apparently having reached a stalemate. _Fight for them Rick. God damnit fight. I can't live like this anymore. _

_I don't _want _to live like this anymore. _

Rick stepped forward, reaching for his gun. "We'll go home to Carl and Lori, man. We'll go home to them."

"Hey!"

Somewhere in the distance a voice emerged. If he'd been paying more attention, he would have noticed it was coming from nearer the fences, rather than the direction of the house. _Let it end. This needs to end. _

"HEY! You need to run!"

Rick took his hand, grasping the gun and pushing it down. "This is on you, Shane." A flash of steel glistened in the moonlight. A bullet would have been quicker, but he'd given up that choice when he'd decided to murder his best friend. "This ain't on me. It's on you."

Rick lunged, pulling him towards the blade. He felt the tip just brush his abs, piercing the skin and-

"What are you doing!"

The woman's voice carried through the fog, frantic and terrified. Rick pulled away, Shane stepping back simultaneously. Baseball bat brandished high, she backed away from them slowly. "You're crazy… you're absolutely crazy."

Shane grabbed the empty gun off the ground, and Rick stepped forward, knife held aloft. Revenge was forgotten, as they stared at the new threat. "How'd you find us?" Rick asked, menace in his voice. "Follow your boys here?" Shane pointed the gun at the woman's head, supporting Rick's threatening tone. Couldn't hurt her, but at least he could scare her into submission.

Funny how quickly they'd gone from thoughts of murder to thoughts of defense. The safety of Lori and Carl would always be both their priority.

"How'd I…" she stuttered, breathing heavily. "Boys…" She shook her head, seemingly dazed. Glancing over her shoulder, she started backing away, hands raised.

"You better speak, girl." Shane threatened.

"Herd," she whispered. "The dead abandoned Atlanta. There's a herd."

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><p><strong>AN: I've never written a complete psychotic break like Shane's before. I hope there's some method to the madness and you were able to follow what happen? Jon Bernthal had tossed around this idea that Shane never loaded the gun that night- that he brought Rick to the field because he wanted to die and force Rick to be the man he needed to be. I hope his logic from overtly wanting to murder Rick to questioning that decision to wanting to die himself to fighting a common enemy flowed logically in some sort of way? Shane is tough as balls to write, you guys, but I think no matter what, he would always fight the greatest threat to Lori and Carl's safety- and that being Jess, the stranger. I also hope you enjoyed seeing more of Jess and Cecily. I'm hoping to delve a bit more into Logan in the next chapter.**

**Speaking of next chapter... I'd originally meant to get through the fall of the farm in this chapter. And then this first half turned into a total beast. So next chapter we'll see the fall of the farm. I don't think I mentioned in the first chapter, but I am for a new chapter ever 1.5-2 weeks or so.**

**I appreciate any constructive feedback or comments you guys may have, particularly on the Shane sections. Like I said, tough as balls to write. Thanks so much for reading, and having a great holiday season! -Jac**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Walking Dead still isn't mine! Lyrics are from Woodkid's Run Boy Run, which has a super great beat to listen to when you're writing a chapter about insanity.**

**Warning: Although we all know and love Daryl, in early seasons he was not the most tactful or politically correct. In order to keep him in character, he does use some stereotypes associated with Asian-American, in this chapter. I, personally, in no way support these statements, and use them only in the interest of keeping Daryl in character. I hope they do not offend anyone, and apologize if they do.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

_Tomorrow is another day_

_And you won't have to hide away_

_Run boy run_

_This world is not made for you_

The house was still as they approached, though the lights blazed bright, a welcoming warmth beckoning them inside. If he closed his eyes, Logan McCann could remember the last time he'd felt that same sense of comfort, arriving home to spend Spring Break with his family in Boston. By the time he'd pulled into the driveway, after a midterm, PT, and ten hour drive, his dad was playing poker with his buddies from the firehouse and his mom was nose deep in a book. But they'd dropped everything to welcome him home, his father shouting at his younger sister Addison to "Stop texting that dumbass and come say hello to your brother."

It was amazing what the sight of an electric light could bring back.

"Stay behind me Cece," he demanded, climbing up the stairs. Briefly he'd contemplated a quiet, studied approach, the way Colonel Blake had instructed them during the two week training course he'd taken at the Virginia Military Institute after his freshman year of college. But the time for caution had passed. He could hear the freaks approaching, knew they'd be drawn to the lights and noise of the house.

Saying a silent prayer that these people wouldn't be a repeat of Macon, his fist slammed into the door. "Hey! Anybody home!"

The house went silent. He pounded again. "Please! If you're in there, please open the door! They're coming!"

He heard whispers inside, but still no response. Cece pointed at a cracked open window, and before he could stop her, she ran over. "PLEASE! Listen to us!" He could hear Cece's desperation as she called through the crack in the window. She'd been so calm all day, but he'd know it was only a matter of time before she broke down. "There's a herd of freaks heading this way. They're gonna overrun this place."

No response. He grabbed the door handle, pulling on it- if they wouldn't come out, he would go in. Logan couldn't save their friends at camp, but he could save these people. "Even if you won't help us- we saw you had a kid with you. Out in the field. You need to think about him. You need to get-"

THWAK.

The arrow from behind grazed his ear before lodging in the door, which promptly swung open. "No Lori don't—" a woman's voice inside the house shouted.

"Carl! You saw Carl?"

"Who the hell are you?" The source of the arrow, a muscled man who appeared to have taken a mud bath three years ago and never bathed again, stalked up to them, crossbow loaded and pointed straight at his head. "Did Randall's group send you?"

"You know Randall?" Cece gasped, terror flooding her face. Logan grabbed her hand, pulling her back to his side. If these people knew the same Randall they did, they probably knew Macon. And if Macon hadn't killed them, that meant they could not be trusted.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire. He wasn't sure if he feared being overrun by freaks or falling in with Macon's group a third time more.

"_You _knew Randall?" a cute, though scrawny, Asian guy asked from his place behind the crossbow wielding mud bath enthusiast.

"Unfortunately," Logan responded, mouth seemingly disconnected from his brain. _Don't piss these people off. If they take you back to Macon without Jess…_

"Did you see my boy? Carl?" the brunette woman that opened the door asked, grabbing him by the arm, gun pointed at his chest.

Logan pulled back instinctively, hand on his scythe. Instantly, four more guns were pointing at him, in the hands of the skinny Asian dude, a ragged looking old man, a burly African-American guy, and a middle aged blonde. Crossbow guy's hand moved to the trigger.

"STOP IT!" Cece cried, pushing in front of him so that all the weapons were pointing at her instead of him. Logan's heart leapt into his throat. If they were with Randall, they wouldn't hesitate to hurt her. They'd tried it before, and only Jessie had been able to stop them. "_Please_ stop!We don't care if you know Randall, just don't send us back with him! We need help."

She turned to the stupid brunette that had nearly started a shootout. "Yes, we saw a kid out in the field. With two other men. They were arguing, our friend Jess went to warn them."

"Warn them about what?" a short haired girl a little older than Cece demanded.

"Weren't you listening?" Cece nearly shrieked. Logan grabbed her shoulder, trying to calm her down. Hysterics weren't going to get them anywhere.

"There's a herd heading this way. A thousand, maybe more, of those freaks. Jess, Cece, and I… we're probably the only survivors from our camp. We'd been out on a run earlier today, they had overrun our people by the time we got back," Logan explained quickly. Time was running short, though they'd managed to put some distance between them and the herd, and standing around spelling out the implications to these people was not how he wanted to spend his last moments on earth. "We have no car. We've been on our feet since this morning, spent the last few hours running just to try and stay ahead of them. We're exhausted, but we're happy to help you load your cars and get the fuck out of here. All we're asking for is a lift, just to stay ahead. When the coast is clear, we'll find our own car. Hell, point the three of us in the direction of a working car right now, and we'll be out of your hair. But we didn't have to stop to warn you. I don't know how many groups you all have run into, but most people'll throw you to the wolves these days, if not worse." Logan paused, as the guns began to move away from him and Cece. "We just want to survive."

He stared at the crossbow guy. Slowly, he moved the arrow away from him. "Randall's dead." He heard Cece let out a sigh that sounded more like a sob.

"The hell you saying, man?" the African American man asked.

"I'm sayin' Shane's a lyin' son of a bitch. Glenn and I found his body. His neck was broke. Ain't no way a walker does that to a man," crossbow guy replied.

"Oh my God, he's out there with Rick and Carl," the brunette muttered, sinking to the ground.

"And Jess," Cece hissed. "We need to go help them!"

Crossbow guy shook his head. "Naw, Rick can handle 'im. You know that Lori. Carol, get 'er inside. Everybody needs to grab their things fast as possible, we clear outta here in twenty."

As he made to go inside, Logan grabbed the man's arm. He felt him flinch under his grip, and instantly let go. "Make it five," he said softly, pointing out into the distance.

They watched in horror as the fence around the farm collapsed under the weight of the herd.

OOO

_Well fuck. _

Hostility wasn't exactly a new one. Jess knew, probably better than most, that new friends were not always to be trusted, and that "generous" advice often required a greater payment than one wanted to give. But she never imagined she'd be staring down a gun and a knife thirty seconds after warning the two men of the enormous herd of freaks following behind her.

Then again, she _had _just interrupted a murder.

_If they aren't going to listen, just go. It's their life or yours, _a little voice, a greedy, selfish voice, chimed in at the back of her head.

_Do no harm, Jess. You took an oath._

_ Yeah, and you broke it on day one of the apocalypse. _

A glance at the fence was enough to reveal that the freaks were approaching. It would hold for now, but as soon as they piled up on, it would collapse under their weight. She was not fucking around with these two idiots and their personal vendetta.

"You ain't talkin', girl…" the man with the shaved head growled. He cocked the gun in his hand.

She looked at the other man brandishing the knife. He looked infinitely more reasonable than the gunman, which was hard to reconcile with the fact that he'd nearly gutted the other guy. "I ain't gonna hurt ya. Just tell me how ya found this place."

"Are you kidding me?" She'd never been able to take stupidity lying down. "I just told you there's a herd coming this way, and all you care about is how I found this farm? You ever run into a herd before?" The gunman kept his weapon trained on her as she walked up to the man with the knife, but for whatever reason, he didn't shoot. Grabbing his shoulder, she turned him toward the fence. She heard a gasp escape his mouth, and she saw that the number of freaks had nearly tripled since she last looked. The strain on the fence was apparent. "You see that? You have a hell of a bigger problem than three strangers running across your farmland. I can promise you, there are a thousand more behind. You two wanna kill each other? That's fine. But you've got a kid over there watching, and—"

The knife man pulled away, turning to face the boy. "Carl? What are you doing out here?"

Both men distracted by the boy, Jess ran for it. An inkling of guilt nestled in her stomach- the kid surely didn't deserve to be abandoned with those two morons. But if this was any indication, Logan and Cece would need all the help they could get at the house.

"Shane! Don't let her—" she heard knife guy shout behind her. Jess pushed her exhausted body as hard as she could, but her head start meant nothing. She heard footsteps pounding the ground behind her in chase, felt two arms wrap around her waist, throwing her to the ground. She went down hard on her back, her pack the only thing preventing her head from meeting the soil.

"Tryin' to run little girl?" the man called Shane asked as he held her down, his hands closing around her neck, mockery dripping from his voice. "You'll make damn good walker bait. Could save my people with you. Ain't no one gonna question a stranger's death." Jess gasped for breath, struggling against his hands.

"We need to run," Jess choked out, trying to push him off her. The possibility of dying, being wholly consumed, had passed her mind. But not like this. Not without a fight. Her vision began to blur, and if she couldn't loosen his hands, the freaks were the last thing she'd have to worry about. "There is time if we get to the cars, but we need to go now_." _

A loud crack rang through the air, seemingly confirming her statement. The man loosened his grip in surprise, and Jess struggled harder to escape his grasp. Freaks poured over the cracked wooden beams, trampling each other as the fence fell away, opening the farm up to invasion. The first pack headed straight for the man and the kid. A second pack diverted toward her and Shane.

"We gotta move man!" the man called, grabbing the boy's hand as they started to back away. "Carl, grab the gun!" He did as he was told.

"It doesn't have to end like this," Jessie whispered frantically, ignoring the searing pain in her neck. "There's time to escape. _Please._"

The man leaned back, hand running over his hair. She could move her upper body, but his heavy weight on her legs kept her pinned to the ground. "This ain't how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be over…"

A hiss over Shane's shoulder drew her attention, the first freak reaching them. The man wasn't moving, wasn't reacting. Summoning whatever strength she had left, she pulled herself up, grabbed the gun the man had pointed at her out of his back pocket, turned off the safety, and shot.

Nothing.

"YOU HAVE NO BULLETS!" she shouted, despite knowing that it would only draw the beast faster. The man had gone to a gunfight without any bullets, left them unprotected, wouldn't move so she could fight back, and she was going to die here. In this field. Because for some God damn reason, for the first time since this whole shit show began, she'd actually decided to take the whole Hippocratic Oath thing seriously.

A shot rang out, and her face was suddenly splattered with a sticky substance. She knew what it was instinctively, but refused to acknowledge it. Compartmentalization was the only way to get through this, and lucky for her, she was an ace at that. Turning, she saw the boy holding the gun, the knife man looking at them with confusion- because Shane wasn't moving? Because the gun wasn't loaded? Because he nearly killed an unarmed man?

_Damnit, _she thought as it dawned on her. Shane was suicidal.

"Help!" she shouted to the man and his son, hoping they wouldn't leave her. "Please don't leave me here!" The walkers were coming in droves, forming a sea that essentially separated her and Shane from her potential savior.

Another bullet ran out, piercing the next walker as it came near her. The kid had good aim. Shane fell back, hands covering his face, allowing her to pull her legs free. "Shane! Take her and meet us at the farm!" the knife guy commanded.

As she stood, a bullet took down a third freak, soaking her in another round of blood and brains. Bat in hand, she swung at an emaciated, long-dead freak with flesh dripping from its face. Its head burst easily, requiring little effort, allowing her to easily swing back toward a hulking former postal worker. _Neither rain nor snow, nor impending apocalypse_, she thought, trying to find some sort of levity in her impending doom. Two swings, and he went down easy.

"Are you coming?" she hissed at the man on the ground. When he didn't move, she kicked his leg, trying to get his attention. Why was she trying to save him? He'd tried to kill her, threatened to give her to the walkers to save his sorry life.

_Because you left them behind… _

"If you care anything for that kid, you'd get your ass up and help me protect them," she threw out in a last, desperate attempt to motivate him.

When Shane didn't respond a second time, she was done. They would soon be overrun, and she wasn't going to wait around to die. She almost wished she had a gun to shoot the man, put him out of his misery before the freaks overtook him. If there had been time, she would have tried harder to save him, but it just wasn't an option.

Jessie wasn't but a few steps away before she heard footsteps- real, living footsteps- running behind her. "Ain't got a weapon," he muttered, waving the unloaded gun.

Reaching into her backpack, praying she wasn't making a huge mistake, she handed him the hunting blade she'd stolen from Macon's camp the night they escaped. "Let's get to the house."

OOO

"You seen Rick yet?" Lori asked frantically for what seemed to be the ninth God damn time. "Carl?"

"Ain't seen jack shit, Lori," Daryl nearly growled.

"Well we can't leave—"

"Without them? You think I don't know that?!"

He sighed, watching as she re-entered the house, shoulders sinking, head cast down. Was the situation entirely her fault? Hell no. But the woman was partially to blame for the insanity developing between Rick and Shane, and he was having a bitch of a time not taking it out on her. Add on the pressure of suddenly becoming the leader of this merry band of jackasses- what with Shane and Rick missing and Hershel frantically loading his shot gun, muttering about protecting what was his- long story short, it had quickly become a pretty shitty day. And that was saying something, considering he'd been shot in the head earlier that week.

"Coming through!" a perky voice chimed in. The Chinese chick that was travelling with the frat boy pushed through the door, arms laden with boxes of unperishable food and medical supplies. Much as he was hesitant to allow the two into the group, their warning had given them precious time to pack and prepare. The frat boy seemed pretty level headed, had taken a handgun when offered and checked it carefully to ensure it was loaded and the safety was on, and once the girl had calmed down from her hysterics over Randall- whatever the hell that was- she proved willing to help in whatever way she could.

That sat alright with him. Was good enough for a ride out of Walker-ville, at least.

He heard T-dog slam the trunk of the Tucson behind them. "That's everything. Cars are ready to go. What's the plan?"

_The hell if I know. Half of us are still missin', and the other half won't leave without 'em._

"Go grab Maggie, Glenn, an' Andrea. Jimmy too. An' the kid that came with her." An idea was forming in his head. He didn't know how well it'd work, but fuck it, it was probably their best chance to try and save the farm and find Rick, Shane, and Carl.

"Logan," the girl chimed in.

"Yeah him."

T-dog nodded, and entered the house, calling out their names. "You drive like an Asian?" Daryl asked, not even thinking twice about the words leaving his mouth.

He watched as the girl's jaw dropped. She shook her head briefly before responding. "Nope. Unless you count all those tickets for running down red lights and pedestrians." She rolled her eyes. "Don't be a dick."

He snorted. She might be panicky, but she had a backbone. "Want you to drive that blue truck. I'm gonna put T-dog in the passenger seat and Andrea in the bed with you. Drive 'em around so we can take care of these motherfuckers. If we can save the farm, we will. At least hold it 'til Rick and your friend get back."

"And if we don't?" she asked quietly.

"Ya come back, get Lori an' the rest out of this house, an' high tail it the fuck out of here. Got it?"

"I got it." The girl nodded, taking the keys he handed her. "I'll try not to run anyone over."

As T-Dog and Andrea emerged, he pointed them to the battered blue truck, and the three climbed in, speeding off into the dark.

God damn he hoped he hadn't just sent them off into a death trap.

"Out of my way!" Hershel pushed through the door, shoving the others back. Shotgun at his shoulder, he stared out into the distance, ready to shoot. The first walkers were approaching the house fast, their moans filling the air.

"Daddy—" Maggie started, following him down.

"This is our house, Maggie. I'll die protecting it."

_Good a night as any_…

"What do you need us to do?" the frat boy- Logan- asked.

Daryl pointed at Maggie and Glenn. "You two take the Tucson. Jimmy ya take the Winnebago. We'll hold this place 'til we find Rick and Carl. Then we're out."

"What about Bethie? And the others?" Maggie asked as Logan simultaneously asked what he was supposed to do.

"Stay here. Hershel's mind ain't straight. Need someone to actually guard the house 'til T-Dog, Andrea, and your girl come back."

With affirmative nods on all sides, Daryl revved the engine of Merle's bike and sped off into the darkness.

Time for some huntin'.

OOO

"To your left!" the woman hissed, taking a swing at a walker that was quickly approaching her. Gripping the hunting knife, Shane grabbed the walker by the collar of its blood stained polo shirt and stabbed in clean between the eyes. Shoving it backwards, he managed to push down two more walkers. It wasn't a kill, but at least it would slow them down.

"Ya see Rick and Carl?" he asked the woman. She saved his ass back there, even after he nearly killed her, and though he'd wanted nothing more than to end his own miserable life, he could play nice. If it meant Lori and Carl survived the night, he'd give her any damn thing she asked for.

"Couldn't see where they were headed over the freaks. Towards the farmhouse I think. Behind you!" Grab, stab, drop. Another walker down- it was becoming mechanical at this point. He wished like hell he'd loaded both those damn pistols. "I think I see a break up ahead. We can cut through. May be our last chance to meet up with everyone else."

Ahead, he saw the clearing she indicated. It would be a risk- the walkers were quickly surrounding them, leaving them nowhere to go but the woods. If they were going to get to Lori and Carl, this was going to be their only chance.

Grab, stab, drop. He was going to save them. Rick too.

And then he'd leave the group, and end it. _Just a few more hours. Make sure they're safe, and then you can move on._

The woman was about five feet ahead of him, entering into the thin stretch of field that remained somewhat free of walkers, when he first heard the revving engine. Beyond the fence, Daryl sped through on his motorcycle, stopping briefly to gun down the closest walkers, before taking off again. Driving the opposite direction, T-Dog leaned out the window of Otis's blue pickup, while Andrea crouched in the bed, never once wasting a bullet. _At least I did somethin' right,_ he mused, thinking back to the afternoon in suburbia.

_And then you fucked her and betrayed Lori. _Grab, stab, drop.

"Go back!" the woman shouted, sprinting out of the narrow pathway, and he saw the walkers moving in, closing off their one chance of reaching the farmhouse as they followed the sound of the vehicles. She swung her bat wildly, taking two walkers down.

"Shit," he muttered.

"Walsh!" he heard someone shout his name. Across the herd, he saw Daryl. As he shot at the walkers moving towards the noise, he asked "Where's Rick and Carl?"

"The barn!" Shane shouted back.

"Shane! Behind you!" the woman shouted. Grab, stab, drop. How did she know his name? Had Rick said it?

Or had she learned it from Randall? Had more of his people infiltrated the farm looking for their partner?

Had she led the walkers straight to them?

Rick would have called it paranoia. Shane wasn't so sure.

"We'll get 'em. Get to the house. We gotta get outta here, man," Darryl responded. The redneck looked at him warily, and Shane wondered what he was thinking. How much he knew. If he figured out what the plan had been all along.

Grab, stab, drop.

The woman grabbed his wrist, pulling him away from the herd. "The woods. We can cut back through the woods. The freaks'll be less dense the- oh my God."

Taking one last glance back, he watched as Daryl sped back towards the house and the barn went up in flames.

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><p><strong>Sorry for the delay in getting this one up you guys! The holidays really took one out of me- I had like 34 of the chapter written, was going to try and wrap up the farm in this chapter, and then it turned into a whopper. Add to that Christmas, New Years, travelling between home and my parent's house, and doing a substantial chunk of wedding planning... holy crap it's been a crazy month. **

**Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of you for your kind and positive feedback and reviews! I think I've managed to reach out to everyone personally (if not, I suck, and will get you next time around!). I am so deeply appreciative of your support, and hope you will continue to leave your thoughts and feedback! **

**Next chapter, the farm (finally) falls! Best wishes- Jac**


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